


Unwound

by glorifiedscapegoat



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, post-reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21953116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorifiedscapegoat/pseuds/glorifiedscapegoat
Summary: Post Reunion. Shion attempts to help Nezumi unwind after a long day at work.
Relationships: Nezumi/Shion (No. 6)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 83





	Unwound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhiteEevee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteEevee/gifts), [Curiousscarletteyes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curiousscarletteyes/gifts).



> Happy Holidays! Just wanted to write some wholesome fluff, considering the majority of what I write is angst. Sometimes you just want to write feel-good content! <3
> 
> Adriana and Lena, I wanted to thank both of you for all you've done for me throughout the year. It's been a bit of a rough time, since I've been moving around and dealing with some negative emotions, and both of you have gone above and beyond when it comes to making me feel better. I'm grateful for the chance to know you both, and I look forward to another amazing year.

Nezumi groaned as he stumbled through the front door of his and Shion’s shared apartment, exactly two hours and forty-three minutes later than originally intended.

He kicked the door shut.

“Welcome home,” called Shion. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor in the middle of their― _their_ ―small living room, a large book of poetry sprawled open in front of him. “They kept you late tonight.”

Nezumi grunted in response.

Shion set a scrap of paper between the pages and closed the book. He was already dressed in his pajamas, and his silver hair hung in damp tangles around his chin.

He uncurled himself from the floor, and Nezumi yanked the super-fiber cloth from its spot around his throat. He let it drop to the ground in a heap. He’d pick it up later, when moving his limbs stopped hurting so much.

Shion approached him with a gentle smile. He smelled like the geranium soap he kept well-stocked in the little bathroom attached to the master bedroom. It was a welcome, familiar scent. Nezumi felt the tension ease from his shoulders, the knowledge that he was _finally home_ and the day could get put behind him settling around him like a heavy cloak.

“Should I even ask how rehearsals went?” Shion asked.

“Wonderful,” Nezumi said, gritting his teeth in a mirthless smile. “Our _amazing_ backstage crew decided to get drunk last night and wreck the set―with a week to showtime.”

Shion’s crimson eyes widened. “Oh.”

“Mitsuhide was pissed.” That was putting it mildly. Nezumi could still hear the crack in the director’s voice as he’d demanded the stage crew to clean up their mess.

“I’m sorry,” Shion said.

Nezumi would have shrugged if he weren’t so sore. Rehearsals had started at eight o'clock that morning, and thanks to the stage crew’s drunken adventures, Mitsuhide had taken his frustration out on the whole cast. He drilled them on their lines over and over, raving like a madman when someone missed a line or stepped out of place.

“Thank you for texting me that you’d be late,” Shion said, his lips drawing back in a warm smile. “I appreciate it.”

Since returning, Nezumi had gained access to a cheap cell phone. At first, he barely used it. His time on the road had changed him, but old habits die hard. Only a few lengthy conversations, and a few nasty spats, with Shion had made Nezumi remember to use the phone if he planned to be home late.

Communication was a two-way street. Shion had been patient with him. Nezumi made him wait for over four years, with nothing but a teenage promise between them. And yet Shion had held onto hope that Nezumi would come back to him.

It was a learning process.

But Nezumi found he liked learning.

Shion’s fingers brushed against the curve of his jaw. “Well, you’re home now.” His voice was low and gentle, and Nezumi wondered if he were speaking softly in case Nezumi had a headache. It was amazing he _didn’t_.

“Yeah,” Nezumi said. “I’m home.”

“How about you go take a shower?” Shion suggested. “I haven’t made dinner yet―I didn’t want it to get cold before you got here.”

Nezumi’s lips quirked up at the corner. “We _do_ have a microwave, you know.”

“After the day you’ve had, I wanted to make sure you had a nice meal.”

The teasing remark on Nezumi’s tongue dissipated.

“Go shower,” Shion said. “It’ll help.”

Nezumi mumbled a quiet acknowledgment and headed to their bedroom. He grit his teeth against the pain in his back. Every inch of his body _hurt_. Stress made the joints in his shoulders sting

He stripped out of his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the bathroom floor. He would pick them up once it no longer hurt to move. Nezumi twisted the temperature knob as far as it would go until the water was scalding hot. He stepped behind the curtain and turned the water from boiling to pleasantly hot. He stood beneath the glorious heat, letting it wash the misery of the day down the drain.

He didn’t know how long he stood beneath the shower stream. At some point he’d leaned his head against the wall, the cool tile providing just enough of a contrast to keep him from drifting to sleep.

After the water had begun to go cold, Nezumi twisted the knob off and stood in the steam. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for the inevitable task of putting on his bedclothes, and shoved the shower curtain aside.

His clothes had been snatched up from the floor, and on the closed toilet lid was a fresh pair of boxers, a plain gray tee-shirt, and a pair of flannel pants.

Nezumi could have cried.

He quickly dried off and dressed. He rubbed the towel through his hair, twisting the strands and working out the knots and tangles with his fingers. He hung the towel on the hook hanging from the back of the bathroom door.

Nezumi opened the door and stepped out into the bedroom.

Shion smiled at him from their bed. Since getting an apartment together, they’d traded the twin for a comfortable queen-sized mattress. Shion had the comforter rolled aside, and the lights were soft and dim, casting a pleasant golden glow on the walls.

Nezumi stopped in the doorway.

“Come here,” Shion said, patting the bed.

Nezumi exhaled through his nose. “Shion,” he said, trying to keep his tone gentle. He didn’t have the energy to explain himself or risk an argument over his _tone of voice_. “I’m too tired to do anything―”

“I wasn’t thinking that,” Shion said. He patted the bed again. “Come lay down.”

Nezumi raised an eyebrow at him.

“Trust me.”

Nezumi crossed the room and eased down on the mattress. He groaned as the muscles in his back ached.

“On your stomach,” Shion said.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m getting there.”

Nezumi lay down on his stomach and groaned. The pain danced through each of his nerves, little flares of lighting skittering down his spine. He pressed his cheek against the pillow, gritting his teeth with a pained hiss.

Shion made a gentle sound of sympathy. Nezumi heard him shift, the mattress dipping down, and then Shion was looming over him.

“What are―” Nezumi asked, and then Shion placed his hands on his shoulder blades, palms flat, and bent forward to press a kiss to Nezumi’s temple.

“Just trust me,” he said. “OK?”

Nezumi’s eyes closed.

Shion’s hands drifted over his shoulders, down the length of his spine. The groan Nezumi made should have embarrassed him, but he couldn’t focus on anything other than Shion as he kneaded the knots in his back.

The sorer areas drew out a few winces, but Shion’s touch was gentle and focused. He worked the knots out as softly as he could. The sharp flares in Nezumi’s upper back began to shift into a dull ache.

Nezumi exhaled through his nose. The stress of the day―the ruined set, the director’s shrieks of outrage, his own indignation as he was thrown into the same lot as that pack of morons―fell beneath Shion’s attention.

Shion murmured quietly as he ran his hands down Nezumi’s back. His touch became different as he drifted over the spot on Nezumi’s spine where his burns were. Feather-light strokes that made Nezumi sigh. The pale haze of sleep tugged at his thoughts, drawing Nezumi down until all he could feel and sense and think about was Shion.

Shion’s fingers drifted over Nezumi’s lower back. He breathed out, his cheek pressed into the soft down of the pillow. He felt as if he were floating, weightless and free.

The mattress shifted beneath him, dipping down as Shion bent over him and pressed a soft kiss on the spot between his shoulder blades.

“Did that help?” he whispered.

Nezumi managed a faint murmur.

He felt Shion’s laugh.

Shion’s hands ran one last lap around his spine, and then Shion eased off the bed. “I’m going to go make dinner. You keep resting, and I’ll wake you when it’s ready. Is soup all right?”

Nezumi mumbled.

Shion chuckled and slid off the bed. Nezumi heard him pad out of the bedroom. The door eased open behind him, and Nezumi was only vaguely aware that Shion had left it cracked a bit. The sounds of water running in the kitchen, followed by the clink of Shion digging through the cabinets for a pot, lulled Nezumi into a comfortable slumber.

This was home.

Nezumi had lost his home when he was young. He’d vowed to never let anyone into his heart, for fear of losing it all again. But Shion―Shion had found the cracks in his armor, burrowing into his skin and planting himself in the most sensitive parts of Nezumi’s soul. He’d loved without asking for much in return, given without taking, and had shown Nezumi that the cold, cruel world could have its moments if you knew where to look.

He sighed and burrowed his face in the pillow. Drifting into the shadows, he listened to the sound of a knife thumping against the cutting board and the gentle song Shion hummed to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning to write more No.6 stuff throughout 2020, although I can't promise it will be as wholesome as this piece. Sometimes you just wanna write cuddling, and sometimes you want to watch the _world burn_.
> 
> Here's wishing everyone a wonderful New Year! Thanks for making 2019 a little bit better, and I look forward to what 2020 brings.
> 
> Come hang out with me on tumblr for more No.6 content: **https://glorifiedscapegoat.tumblr.com/**


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